Total pages in book: 28
Estimated words: 25855 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 129(@200wpm)___ 103(@250wpm)___ 86(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 25855 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 129(@200wpm)___ 103(@250wpm)___ 86(@300wpm)
“Fucking hell,” I grumble out. The wear bars are well past showing on her tires, and her brakes are shot to shit. I can’t imagine what else is wrong or when was the last time she had a damned oil change. That settles it. I’ll keep her car here for the night and work on it in between my other customers. I wipe my hands off for the second time today as I make my way back to my office, shaking my head the entire time.
I walk inside the office, the music playing over the speakers that were installed in the garage as well as the inside, but I didn’t have those turned on this morning. Rowen must have done that, probably bored out of her mind while waiting on me. I can’t say that I blame her. There’s not much you can do here. I saw her purse she left in the passenger seat, so she doesn’t even have her phone. Who knows what the hell she could be up to. I’m shaking my head when I open up the door. I’m figuring Rowen will be singing to the music while thumbing through the magazines that come in the mail. That’s not what I walk into though. She’s singing to the music alright, her body swaying, keeping in tune the entire time. But the fucking place is clean. All the receipts and invoices I had piled up on my desk and scattered around are put away and you can actually see more of my office than ever before.
“Are you looking for a job? Because if so, you’re hired,” I tell her, unintentionally scaring her.
“Give someone some warning, would you. Your office is a shit show. It’s a wonder you get it all taken care of.” She’s sitting in my desk chair now, slowly waking up the computer that I turn on once a month to pay the bills. Other than that, I use it for nothing else.
“Good, that will give you something to do for the time being until you land your dream job I know you’ve been searching for. Not to mention the phones. Jesus, the amount of times I get interrupted daily is ridiculous. I tried hiring someone from the temp agency, but nothing would stick,” I grumble.
“I can’t imagine why. Nothing is organized. You have the software, and yeah, it might be a lot for someone new to take in. You’re lucky I thrive on this kind of stuff, never mind the business aspect. Which yes, by the way, I’ll take the job. It might be a crapshoot. I could get hired by another company any day, or you could be stuck with me forever, or you know, you might get sick of me.” I’ve never seen this side of Rowen, the one that loves the career she’s making or the woman who’s insecure I’d get tired of her. In that, there’s no fucking way.
“Not sure that could ever happen, Rowen. I’ll take my chances, siren. Your car is out of commission for the time being. Not to mention, how is that little car going to tote you around the mountains this winter?” I question her. Sure, it was good while she was on campus and in the center of town where streets were taken care of, but when you’re in our rural area, that doesn’t happen as often.
“As long as you’re sure. Don’t talk about my baby that way. She’s done me just fine the past three years. I’m sure she’ll continue to do so. Well, with some minor repairs.” She bats those baby blues at me, and I’m done for.
“You keep thinking that. You’re in my truck for now, and we’ll come back to the topic of your car and snow. I have to get back to work. The keys are in the truck. Let me know when you leave. And Rowen?”
“Braxton?” She cocks her hip out, giving me that attitude of hers I love so much.
“That can be your uniform while you’re in the office.” I wink at her, ducking as she throws a magazine at me, but smiling nonetheless. This has got to be the best day of my life. I’m glad my five-foot-five brunette and blue-eyed girl came in today to confront me. She has bigger balls than most men do when it comes to getting something she wants, and I’m the lucky son of a bitch to call her mine.
Five
Rowen
I walked into the house after leaving Braxton’s shop, Martinez Auto Shop. I laughed when I saw the originality in his name. For the most part, though, his family name is pretty well known in our area and even some of the surrounding towns.
Of course, driving his truck was a dream with all the bells and whistles my Honda doesn’t have. Though I probably drove like a little old lady and was more cautious than ever driving his baby. I’m not kidding. There’s one thing Braxton loves more than his shop, and that’s his truck.